


Forget me not

by serosoul



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serosoul/pseuds/serosoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her name was Harebell, and she sold for 8000 Florins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget me not

Mom - Violet

Brother - Allium

Sister - Harebell

Father - Oxalis

 _"You're named after the most beautiful flowers mom knows,"_ The memory is wispy, elusive even in the longest nights and Rose never manages to hold on or hold it fast. It slips between his fingers, his mothers expression warps, discolouration blots out her gentle smile and kind eyes, it's blood and it pours, relentlessly and endlessly, fills up every crevice until Rose is neck deep and the curdling stench of betrayal, of rage and anger makes him see red before the red sea submerges him completely.

He awakens with a start, sheets pooling around his hips and his skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Sino snuffles in his bed at the other side of the room, barely stirs before turning over as Rose covers his mouth with shaky hands and exhales until his lungs are as empty as the rest of him. He hasn't had that dream in quite awhile, the distant recollection so much fainter to him now than 20 years ago. He reminds himself to breathe, forced to stay in bed because Sino is deceptively sharp even during the death of the night.

As he gazes at his companion, the memory settles like glimmer at the very back of his mind. Memories of Sino questioning about his past rising, spinning, twining.

-

_"Hey, Rose?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"Why did you become an assassin?"_

_"..."_

_"Not to pry or anything, just curious."_

_"Her name was Harebell, and she sold for 8000 Florins."_

_"A woman, huh- wait, what do you mean 'her name **was** '."_

_"She **was** my little sister, now she's dead."_

_-_

_His memories spin out of control_

****

"Mother, why are we moving?" a 10-year-old Allium inquires, deep blue hair fixed in a fashion suitable for heirs rather than good folk. His feet are still bare, the crusting of mud and dirt streaking his feet black and brown and the smaller feet beside his look practically the same.

He briefly glances down to the sullen 4-year-old at his side, squeezing his hand gently until Rose lifts his gaze from the place they call home, all cracked brickwork and holed thatch roofing and fond memories. Their mother looks pensive for a moment, gaze distant and hand caressing her distended stomach.

"Your father met a kind, rich, man and we are going to live in his home and clean his halls." She explains, expression strained even as she takes Allium's hand in hers and leads them all to the horse-drawn wagon at the end of the dirt road. Rose wants to get off as soon as the door closes.

Their father laughs.

****

Rose stops abruptly when his older brother rests a staying hand against his chest, his expression grave, and for a moment, Rose contemplates disobeying Allium no matter the consequence. "- You so reverently assured me that your wife would be of great use! But a bloated whale fainting on my priced rugs is what I get! How impertinent!"

"Please be understanding sir, she is in her last months of pregnancy and prone to fainting spells at this time." Their father pleads from the floor, their mothers prone form cradled in his arms, her cheek is darkening and Rose releases a pained whimper before he can stop himself.

Beady eyes turn on the two boys in the door, surprise evident in the face of their employer and provider and he sniffs in annoyance at the interruption. "Very well, but as soon as the child is born, she is to work double shifts, but for now, she may rest- and the boys cover her work."

Rose climbs to bed with sore limps and bruised knees, but Allium cradles him close and sings to him when their mother can't. In the morning, their father tells them to work hard so mother will feel proud.

He rubs his hands together.

****

"Oxalis, she's my _daughter!_ " Something rattles, falls to the floor and shatters in the time it takes Rose and Allium to get inside the room. Their mother is in the corner, a 2-year-old Harebell clutched against her chest. There are shards from a shattered vase littering the floor between their parents, water trickling.

Their fathers hand rises, as if offering peace, but their mother looks far from appeased as Harebell buries further against her chest. "Allium-" Rose starts, voice tiny in his sudden fear. "Stay put." Allium orders, a minuscule tremor to his voice. The need to yell claws at Rose's throat, he's going to take Harebell away.

"But Violet, love, he's far more capable of providing for her, he has even done so several times, and he truly desires a daughter." Their father talks in goading tones, but every last word sounds vile and Rose thinks he's going to be sick as he extracts Harebell from their mothers arms.

"Please don't take her away from me, if you love me, you cannot do this!" Their mother wails, her voice spelling out a tragedy as she crumbles against the wall, Harebell answering her cries in frantic desperation. She lands a punch against their fathers chin, getting all but thrown into Alliums arms.

"Take her to the head maid." He snaps, one hand nursing his bruise and the other balling up at his side. "And then go do your work, guests are arriving tomorrow." His tone is calmer, forced, Rose doesn't want to leave but Allium's soft calls of his name has him shuffling along to the beat of their fathers harsh words.

"Love, this pains me as much as it pains you." 

And then he strikes their mother.

****

"Rose, I learned how to tie my shoes today!" 6-year-old Harebell cheers, voice full of laughter yet mindful of her manners. She runs up to her brother in quick strides, as fast as her legs will carry her. Her lilac curls fanning out around her pale face and large eyes.

Rose smiles at the sight, his complexion dark and rugged in comparison with long tendrils of hair bound together with a worn leather strap, the hair limp and dry from heat and neglect despite their mothers best efforts. "That's good, well done." He praises, voice quiet as he raises a hand, letting it fall again when dirty fingers come into view.

The small girl pays no mind to his hesitance, crouching in the midst of the garden to hurriedly untie her polished boots before redoing the double knot. She peers up expectantly as she finishes, her expression endlessly earnest and Rose feels a sharp pain in his gut as he nods mutely.

"Are they treating you well?" He asks eventually, like he does every time, Harebell's expression wrinkled with thought before another smile blooms across her precious face. "Yes! The head maid is taking me into town in a fortnight, since I've been so good." She boasts with all the confidence a young girl should possess.

"Oh, I better get back to work before I'm seen, bye bye!" She titters away in an exuberant gait, one small hand waving goodbye as the other hitches up her skirts from the ground. Rose expels a breath in a painful rush, returning to work so his mind doesn't linger on beady eyes;

or the harsh gaze of his father.

****

_"Darling, you cannot enter the main house, you know that."_

The soft reprimand resonates within the halls of Rose's memories, heightens his resolve as moonlight spills through lacy curtains and cause warped shadows to dance across the hall. It would be enough to shatter his stealth in the instance that he actually cared.

He reaches the end of the hall without instance, knows almost the entire staff to be asleep at the dead of the night. He's walked this hall before, he knows the room and he knows this floor, touches the doorknob to a tiny office with the unwavering resolve of something with nothing left to lose.

The door creaks and Oxalis looks up, eyes widened in mute surprise as he pauses his perusal of the papers in front of him. "Rose? What are you doing here- You haven't committed any blunders today-" His father speaks in a confused rush, Rose's back throbs with resentment and his legs ache with rage.

"I just wanted to say goodnight, Oxalis." His fathers cheeks stain with anger in the weak candlelight, he rises abruptly from his chair and wood clatters against unpolished floors. "I am _sick_ of your impudence, you _will_ respe-" There's a flash as a weapon is drawn and Oxalis is cut short.

Blood spurts, thick jets of crimson painting everything red as Rose attempts to control the trembling of his hands. He had been clumsy in his desperation and rage, struck too far to the left and while it does the job, hoarse screams of pain travel through the mansion at the speed of light.

Rose drives the scabbard deeper, regaining hold of his ice cold determination until bone snaps, the wet sound of tearing flesh underlining the sudden silence in the room. Oxalis' lifeless body thuds limply against the floor, soaking in his own blood. It's a fucking mess and Rose's breaths come fast and shallow. He wants to puke.

Hurried footfalls sound outside the room, urgency beating a nervous tattoo against Rose's chest before he remembers what to do, the thundering of horse hoofs soon to be heard as they fade into the night, leaving the chaos behind. 


End file.
